


Last and First Dances of the Year

by Lion_owl



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Cousins, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, First Footing, Fluff, Gen, Hogmanay, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Intimacy, New Year, Other, Romance, Slice of Life, THE SCARF IS GREAT FOR CUDDLING, both non-sexual and (mildly) sexual intimacy, or attempts at it but the Doctor's driving is terrible - what can you do?, so much fluff - like a mountain of it, very much doc/brig centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: The Doctor decides to visit Alistair and family over Hogmanay. Leela takes a shine to one of his cousins.
Relationships: Fourth Doctor & Leela, Fourth Doctor/Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, Leela (Doctor Who)/Original Female Character(s), Leela/Morwenna Lethbridge-Stewart, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	Last and First Dances of the Year

**_31 st of December, 22:56_ **

“A-ha! This will do just nicely,” the Doctor grins, pocketing the stick he’s just found, and lengthening his stride to catch up with Leela, who is already standing by the garden gate.

“Why do you need a stick to visit friends, Doctor?” Leela asks. “What does it have to do with a new journey around the sun?”

“It’s tradition,” he says. “It’s for the fire. The gift of warmth.”

“But you took it from outside their house – can they not gather their own kindling?”

“Well they can, but – well – to be honest, it’s largely symbolic these days,” he knocks on the door.

“And what did you call this tradition, again?” Leela asks.

Before the Doctor can answer, the door swings open, filling the garden with light.

“Good evening,” says the woman who has opened it. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, hello,” says the Doctor. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“For what?” the woman asks, giving them both a skeptical glance-over, her tone polite but wary. “I don’t believe you were invited.”

“Oh, well that really is a shame,” the Doctor says. “I had hoped I would find him here.”

“Who?”

“That’s okay, Mhairi,” says another voice from behind her, one the Doctor knows very well. “He’s a friend.”

“If you say so. I’ll leave them with you, then,” Mhairi shrugs and heads back into the house.

“Well, do come in if you’re coming, Doctor, you’re letting all the heat out,” Alistair says, appearing into view.

“It’s okay, he brought more,” Leela explains, as they step inside and wipe their feet on the mat.

“I dread to think what that means.” Alistair closes the front door. “Good evening, Ms…?”

“Leela,” she says. “Just Leela. Among the Sevateem we have no use for many names.”

“Very wise people, the Sevateem; aren’t they, Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart?” the Doctor quips.

“One of those isn’t strictly my name.”

“Which one is the most important for you to be called by?” Leela asks.

“Well it does rather depend on the context,” Alistair says. “But I think for today, Alistair shall suffice.”

“Okay.” Leela says.

“I did actually bring gifts,” the Doctor says, digging into his pocket and retrieving the many sticks and twigs which he had been collecting over the past few weeks, relatively speaking. Then to another pocket, where his yo-yo surfaces before the coin pouch, and –

“Doctor, what is going on?” Alistair asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I should have thought that was obvious,” the Doctor beams. “I’m first-footing,”

“It isn’t yet midnight,” Alistair says.

“Oh.”

“Are you three done standing in the hallway?” Mhairi asks, appearing in the door frame once again. She nods at the Doctor’s armful of kindling. “What are you doing with that?”

“Trying to first-foot you,” the Doctor says.

“It isn’t yet midnight,” Mhairi says.

“So Alistair’s pointed out. It isn’t my fault you lot had to go at get yourselves stuck in a Linear Stream.”

Mhairi raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question what that’s supposed to mean, as she turns and leads the way back into the living room.

“Stop pouting, Doctor,” Alistair says, bumping their shoulders together lightly as they walk. “We’ll put it in the basket by the hearth.”

**_31 st of December, 23:08_ **

“I haven’t given you this yet,” the Doctor says as he settles on one of the sofas, in between Alistair and Leela. He holds out the leather pouch, which is still in his hand.

“I’m Leela,” Leela says, turning to the woman sitting on _her_ other side.

“Morwenna,” the woman replies. There is a tortoiseshell cat sleeping on her lap, who stands and stretches, and strolls across everyone’s knees and back again. “This is Bluebell.”

“Hello,” Leela says, looking Bluebell over with a serious expression.

Bluebell maiows and rubs her nose on Leela’s hand.

“What is it?” Alistair asks, accepting the pouch from the Doctor.

“Part two of three,” the Doctor says, reaching into another pocket and producing a packet of salt and vinegar Discos, which he unceremoniously drops on Alistair’s knee. “I know I’m ‘early’, but it’s tomorrow somewhere, as they say. They say that, don’t they?”

Alistair pulls at the drawstring, upending the pouch and emptying the contents – which turns out to be a surprisingly colourful variety of coins – into his palm, examining them. Some have markings he is familiar with, others that he could never hope to place, and a few more still have no markings at all.

“Some of these aren’t from Earth, are they?”

“You’re learning,” the Doctor beams, “no, a lot of them aren’t.”

“This one is?” Alistair realises, holding up a coin with Cyrillic lettering embossed on it.

“Yes, but it’s from the eighty-third century,” the Doctor says, evidently reading the writing. “Very limited edition, too. Don’t shout about it, there are some galactic mercenaries who would tear your solar system apart to get their hands on it.”

“How did _you_ get your hands on it, then?” Alistair asks.

“Via perfectly non-violent means, I assure you,” the Doctor says. “Long story, involves lots of angry dragons and a drunk kangaroo. Let’s just say it was given to me.”

Alistair raises an eyebrow.

The Doctor picks up another ‘coin’, one that looks more a crystal than a coin, and has a purple-ish sheen to it. “This one, on the other hand, has been practically worthless since the Great Sand War on Fuhlaudh XVII. That was quite a skirmish. But it’s very pretty!”

“I suppose it is,” Alistair agrees. “You can tell me about the others later, lest we make anyone nervous if they happen to overhear these rather fantastic-sounding tales.”

He glances over the collection once more before tipping them back into the pouch. There isn’t a single British Pound or Swiss Franc among them, but he’s glad, because that gives him an excuse not to spend any of it.

“Oh. Right, yes,” the Doctor says, as though that probability hadn’t occurred to him – well, it likely hadn’t. His wrist brushes Alistair’s own as he reaches over and deposits the purple gem back in the pouch. Alistair tightens it shut.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he says. He wants to turn and kiss him, but he can feel Aunt Patricia’s scrutinising gaze on them both, so he refrains, staring at the pouch for a moment and admiring the dark green suede, before sliding it into his pocket.

**_1 st of January, 00:41_ **

“Right, I think I’ll clear some of this up,” Alistair says to no-one in particular, stacking the discarded plates and glasses that are littering the dining table and several other spots around the living room, and picking up what he can, carrying it out of the room to be piled by the sink in the kitchen.

The Doctor sees him go and slips out after him.

“Oh good, you’re in here,” the Doctor says, stepping into the kitchen and quietly closing the door behind him. “We’ve not managed to get a moment alone since I arrived.”

“No, we haven’t,” Alistair agrees, leaning back against the worktop behind him, glad that someone had already thought to close the blinds. “I rather miss you.”

Oh, there’ve been a few stolen touches, brushes of arms and shoulders, whenever it can be passed off as unintentional for the benefit of the more narrow-minded members of his family, but he aches to have the Doctor’s entire body pressed up against his own, even for a just a few moments.

“And I you,” the Doctor says, walking forward until the gap between them is negligible. He winds a portion of his scarf around Alistair’s neck, mirroring the way it is wrapped around his own neck, before his hand comes to rest on Alistair’s cheek. “Very useful, this scarf, for protecting things I value – like my neck, and you.”

“You value your neck, Doctor?” Alistair asks, linking the scarf over his own elbow and then around his wrist as he lets one hand drift to land on the Doctor’s lower back, and brings the other hand up to the Doctor’s cheek. “That’s the first I’m hearing of it, with the way you’re always dashing off into the centre of trouble.”

The Doctor laughs. “Fair point. But it’s true.” His other hand finds its way to Alistair’s back, completing the symmetry between them.

“I hope so, because _I_ certainly value your neck,” Alistair says, letting his forehead rest against the Doctor’s and closing his eyes. “So I thank your scarf for keeping it in one piece for me.”

“My scarf says you’re very welcome,” the Doctor says, and it’s Alistair’s turn to laugh.

They fall into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the quiet sound of them both breathing, just holding each other close.

He’s aware that someone could open the kitchen door and, if it’s the wrong person, potentially break loose all hell at any moment. But that awareness is fading into the background, what with the pleasant buzz of the Doctor’s proximity, so keenly missed when he’s without it, so he takes the risk and lets himself bask in it.

“Happy New Year, Doctor,” he says, smiling.

“Happy New Year, Alistair,” the Doctor says.

His nose brushes against the Doctor’s as he tilts his face up until their lips meet.

The Doctor’s hand clenches in the material at the back of Alistair’s shirt, and his own grip on the Doctor tightens reflexively as the heat of the kiss sears through him. His hand slides from the Doctor’s cheek to the back of his head, tangling his fingers in the curls of his hair as he tries to pull him closer still, kissing him harder as the Doctor’s hand roves across his waist.

The Doctor moves forward again, pressing Alistair firmly against the counter. Alistair hums with pleasure as his hand drops down to caress the Doctor’s hip…

And then the sensible but annoying part of his brain takes over, and he puts all his effort into stopping, putting his hand on the Doctor’s chest and pushing away gently, encouraging a gap to form between them. “Don’t think Mhairi would appreciate it if we shagged each other senseless on her kitchen floor,” he manages to say. “Might happen if we keep on like this.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” the Doctor says, “you’re probably right.” It takes a moment, but he steps back, dropping his hands to his own side.

Alistair disentangles himself from the scarf and turns away, straightening out his clothes, and trying to focus on catching his breathe, and calming his racing pulse.

“Well,” Alistair says, when he decides it’s safe enough to look at the Doctor again. “At any rate, that rather magnificent snog ought to keep me going a bit longer.”

The Doctor doesn’t look the slightest bit dishevelled, which isn’t fair.

“Hee, good, same,” the Doctor grins, “though I look forward to the sequel.”

“Unfortunately this house has thin walls,” Alistair says.

“TARDIS has thick walls, very thick walls,” the Doctor says, “if you want to we can make use of that tomorrow. And I promise not to abduct you.”

Alistair pretends to consider it, but he already knows he is going to say yes.

“Hard for a fellow to resist,” he says after a moment, smirking in a manner that he has learned from experience makes the Doctor’s knees weak, since his own currently want to turn to jelly, and he reckons turnabout is only fair. “But I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

The Doctor grins – well, this one barely _stops_ grinning – and darts forward, giving Alistair a very quick, chaste kiss, and back again. “Probably should get back to the party before we’re missed too much,” he says “I’ll bring more cider, that’ll make everyone happy.”

**_1 st of January, 03:19_ **

The fire in the hearth has faded to a pale glow when Alistair starts in the armchair, and realises he almost fell asleep. Leela and Morwenna are curled up together on the sofa, also asleep by the looks of things, and everyone else has already retired upstairs. The Doctor is splayed out on the hearth rug next to Bluebell, and Alistair notes with some amusement that they are in the exact same position. He’s never known how cats can be comfortable like that, and he wonders if the Doctor is.

His eyes try to close themselves again and he blinks them open. Time for him to go upstairs too, then. He gets up from the chair and goes over to the fireplace, kneeling in front of the two sleeping forms. He gives Bluebell a scratch behind the ear, and she trills and wakes up, turning to stare at him and begins purring loudly.

“Doctor,” he says quietly as he rubs a hand down Bluebell’s back, a couple of her hairs clinging to his hand. She stands and wanders out of the room. He tries again: “Doctor.”

The Doctor makes a sleepy sound, but otherwise doesn’t show any sign of hearing him.

“Come on, you can’t stay there,” he says. Well, if he really wants to, he probably can; but if Alistair’s being honest with himself, which he is, he would much rather the Doctor came upstairs with him, so he’s going to at least try and encourage that outcome.

“Why not?” the Doctor mumbles.

“Because it’s time you went to bed.”

“But I am.”

“Doctor, there’s something I need to tell you,” he says. “Lieutenant Sullivan asked me to elope with him. I think I’m going to say yes.”

“That’s nice. Please save me a slice of cake.”

So this is no use, Alistair concludes, allowing himself to sigh. He leans down, brushing the Doctor’s hair aside and kisses his temple. “See you in the morning, my love,” he whispers.

It’s just as he’s getting to his feet, thinking to rouse Morwenna and suggest she goes upstairs so he can turn the lights off, when the Doctor rolls over and cracks open an eye. “Alistair!” he sounds slightly panicked, and sits bolt upright in a swift movement that ought to break his back. “Don’t marry Harry!”

Alistair can’t help but chuckle at the genuine worry seeping through the Doctor’s tired voice. “Even if I could, you should already know I’d never wish to.”

“What’s going on?” Leela’s voice, then. At some point during their exchange, she has woken up. “We don’t have to leave yet, do we, Doctor?”

“No,” the Doctor assures her, taking Alistair’s offered hand and getting to his feet – and weaving his fingers through Alistair’s, he dips his head against Alistair’s shoulder. “We were just going…” he trails off.

Alistair realises he’s been a little selfish about this, having not quite managed to get around to wondering where Leela fits into all this. He doesn’t have a bed to offer her: Mhairi’s guest rooms are all occupied. But she seems quite content where she is. Perhaps he should leave Morwenna be.

“Good,” Leela says, and she settles back down again, resting her head on Morwenna’s shoulder.

Morwenna stirs. “Oh, you’re awake,” she says into Leela’s hair. Then she turns towards Alistair, in a sudden movement as if startled by his presence – and he, too, thinks he might look like a deer in headlights – her eyes widening. Her gaze travels across to the Doctor, who looks ready to fall asleep on his feet with his head on Alistair’s shoulder, down to their joined hands.

She visibly relaxes.

She turns back to Leela. “I’ll bring some blankets down for the sofa, if you wish. But I have plenty of room to share if you’d rather a mattress.”

Alistair lets out a breath of relief. “Well, I suppose we’ll leave you ladies to sort yourselves out,” he says.

There is a round of “ _goodnight”_ and “ _happy New Year”_ from everyone, before he leads the Doctor up the stairs and into the room where he’s staying, firmly shutting the door.

He quickly changes into his pyjamas while the Doctor, presumably not having thought to bring sleepwear, strips down to his basics. He settles into bed, his back against the wall, and lifts the corner of quilt. The Doctor climbs in, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. They share several more brief, gentle kisses, before the Doctor turns onto his other side, pressing his back against Alistair’s chest. Alistair drapes an arm across the Doctor’s waist and nuzzles into the back of his neck.

It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.

“Goodnight, dearest,” the Doctor whispers into the darkness.

**_A few days later_ **

“Well, this is us,” the Doctor says, as the four of them approach the TARDIS. They have walked the longest possible d-tour around the woods from Mhairi’s house to get here, and can procrastinate no longer.

“I don’t remember there being a police box here, before?” Morwenna wonders.

“Oh, this is our vehicle,” Leela says. “It goes everywhere, it is magnificent. Do you want – Doctor, is it okay if we show Morwenna the inside?”

“Of course.” The Doctor grins, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

“Doctor,” Alistair says, a warning tone as he follows Leela and Morwenna inside.

“No abductions, I know. Cross my hearts,” the Doctor twice motions a cross shape, once over each heart, before reaching out to Alistair’s hand as he steps behind him through the doors,

Morwenna is standing staring around the console room with a shocked expression, and Leela, standing close, has a hand on her arm.

“Are you okay?” Leela asks.

“It’s… it’s impossible,” Morwenna says, looking like she might be ready to run, but she keeps her feet firmly planted where they are.

“It is difficult to believe, I know,” Leela agrees. “And the yo-yo has no affect on it, but flick that switch and who knows where or when we’ll end up.” She points to the lever she had pulled when she first stepped into the TARDIS.

“I’d rather not, if that’s okay,” Morwenna says.

“Of course it’s okay,” Leela assures her. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Morwenna turns to Alistair. “Can you believe this?” she asks.

“I’m afraid so,” Alistair says, wishing he could give her the answer he suspects she _wants_ to hear. “I’ve travelled rather further than you can imagine in this Godforsaken contraption. You get used to these inexplicable things, when you know the Doctor.”

“I’m sorry,” Leela says, rubbing her hand in small circles on Morwenna’s back. “Perhaps I was a little overzealous.”

“No,” Morwenna says, leaning into her touch. She presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “No, thank you, I – I’m just a little lost for words. But if you have the whole universe to choose from, as you claim…?”

Leela nods, looking worried. “Well I think we can come back any time, can’t we, Doctor?”

“We can,” the Doctor confirms. He squeezes Alistair’s hand, clasped in his own, as he says: “to be honest, you’d have a difficult time keeping me away from this time zone on a permanent basis, if you tried.”

Leela grins. “Excellent. We’ll come back and I’ll see you again, then,”

“I’ll like that,” Morwenna grins too, then she says something else, at a whisper, and the Doctor doesn’t pry as the two women wander across the console room and step back outside.

“Well. Doctor…” he doesn’t say goodbye. He never does.

The Doctor holds out his arms and pulls Alistair into a tight hug.

“You know I’m coming back to you,” the Doctor whispers directly in his ear. He always does say this. He doesn’t need to. Alistair knows.

They stand there for a long, quiet time, just enjoying the moment of embracing each other.

Eventually though, they do separate, with a quick kiss on the way.

“Well, I’d better be making tracks,” Alistair says. “I’m heading home tomorrow, so I promised Mhairi I’d cook tonight.”

When Alistair steps outside, Leela and Morwenna are leaning against the TARDIS, sharing a kiss of their own. They break apart when they realise they aren’t alone anymore, and Morwenna blushes furiously.

“Are you ready to go, Leela?” the Doctor asks, sticking his head out of the door.

“Yeah,” Leela says, although she sounds reluctant. “Bye, Morwenna.”

“Bye Leela,” Morwenna says, “it was lovely to meet you. Very lovely.”

They share a long glance, before Leela nods and brushes past the Doctor into the TARDIS.

“Bye, Morwenna,” the Doctor says.

“Bye, Doctor,” Morwenna says, stepping back onto the path that leads to Mhairi’s house.

Alistair hesitates for a moment before turning to follow.

“What’s that?” Morwenna asks, when the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising reaches their ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year and new decade, everyone! hope you have had/are having a wonderful festive season!
> 
> i wanted to post this on the 1st or 2nd of january, but then it went from “this is a cute scene but doesn’t maketh a fic,” through “hmm maybe i can manage 200 words or so” to “it is now in excess of 3k including a bunch of other stuff happening too” (the original idea was just the two of them wrapped up in doc’s scarf saying happy new year)
> 
> the title is a reference to the hogmanay tradition of holding a ceilidh, which i didn’t write because how the feck do you write dancing? also that and a couple of other bits have been handwaved because i didn’t wanna write his entire family, lol, but for next year i want to write an entire unit fam new year celebration fic, so watch this space.
> 
> these two, though, honestly. they are so bloody adorable.
> 
> please leave a comment! :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thick Walls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580466) by [Lion_owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl)




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